


I Am Not Yours

by junebugrebellion



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort without the Comfort, Leia-centric, Takes place during TFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebugrebellion/pseuds/junebugrebellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was originally going to be for Han/Leia week and the prompt "Lost Together." This takes a few liberties with that and with the reunion scene in TFA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Not Yours

**Author's Note:**

> "I am not yours, not lost in you, / Not lost, although I long to be"  
> -Sara Teasdale, "I Am Not Yours"

His eyes have always been her undoing. In the split second it takes to find his gaze, a thousand possibilities run through her head, but of course it's this one that comes to fruition. Her footsteps stall the moment she meets his gaze, and she's nineteen and twenty-two and twenty-four and thirty and forty-six and however old she is all at once. What year is it? When was the last time she saw his eyes? The holos she keeps in secret are nothing compared to this, compared to looking him in the face across the battlefield. 

It always was battlefields, wasn't it? 

She's a general, now, she wants to say. She's a general, and this is her army, and look at that, Solo, she's done just fine without him. She's got a whole resistance movement that she commands, now. She's higher ranking than the two of them have ever been, and she has gotten on perfectly fine, and she doesn't still wake, some nights, thinking that he might be lying next to her.

But she's too lost in his eyes to say anything. 

Decades ago, he looked at her like this while he was being lowered into carbonite, looked at her like she was the only thing in the entire galaxy that mattered. She'd spent half a year trying to get him back, and she'd done it. 

This time hadn't worked, though. This time, he didn't tell her that he knew she loved him. 

The little girl in her, the little princess that so desperately holds onto her heart, wants to believe that if she tells him he can come home, he will. She wants to believe that if she tells him she loves him, if she tells him how many times she's thought about contacting him, he'll take her into his arms. She wants to believe that if she tells him about the nightmares she's had and how she's been doing his old job of calming her out of them, he'll take the position back. 

But that princess used to think all men were princes, as good as her senator father, and that monsters with things under beds, not running through veins.

Besides, she's not a princess anymore. She's a general, now, and she's done just fine without him. 

She knows that the princess in her chest doesn't see what her intuition does, doesn't know she'll lose him again. 

"You changed your hair," he says, and she sees what he means in his eyes. 

"Same jacket."

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the poem above and a Stroope choir arrangement of said poem. Here's the link to the song! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cUbI8ibYZo


End file.
